


Containment

by Davechicken



Series: The Emperor and his Knight [21]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Canon equivalent events, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 11:25:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7169132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo needs Poe to *leave*.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Containment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poetdameron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetdameron/gifts).



> Direct sequel to [Disintegration](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7000357).

Kylo does not want to go near Poe. He wants Poe as far away as possible. He wants Poe to - to - _leave_. He does. He wants him to **leave**. He looks at him, there: standing like he always had. When had he grown so old? Not old, but _older_. He was simultaneously every age he’d ever known him, and Kylo doesn’t know how it’s possible, but it is. Layered pasts, and an age that crept up on them both. That made Kylo tall and wide and strong. Taller than Poe, though in his head Poe is still several inches above him, and it’s only when he catches their reflections that he realises that’s not _true anymore_.

Every moment layered like varnish and lacquer over the wood below. Each patina transparent, or at the very least translucent. Bubbles of memories and the grain of their trees below it all. Happier times, and a time when the galaxy seemed blackest, and he had clutched his hands and asked _come with me_ , and Poe had said **yes**.

Kylo **wants to run away** , but there’s _nowhere left to run to_. He ran from his family, here. Ran, thinking the Voice would be pleased, would make it better. But here the Voice says new things, and he’s - he can’t - the things it wants him to do, the _evils_ … there are limits, right? There must be some line you do not cross, some line inside of you?

It is getting harder, day by day, to recognise what it is. Where it is.

If. If it is.

Poe said he would help, but Kylo isn’t sure it’s possible to. He’s too strong, for one. 

It’s not… meant… as an insult. It’s not meant as a denigration of Poe, it’s a simple truth: Kylo has the Force, and Poe does not. Poe can fly a ship and gun him down from the skies, but Kylo can crash his TIE right down to the planet with little more than a flicker of his eyes. 

He’s done worse. Much, much worse. So much worse that he shudders when he thinks of it, and isn’t that supposed to have stopped? Isn’t he supposed to feel… right, here? Like he hadn’t back - back _there_? That was the deal. Run, and be saved. ~~Run and be damned.~~

He kept up his end of the bargain, but the Leader hasn’t. Only Poe has kept him from going completely down into a black hole of despair, but then…

 _Attachment is forbidden_. The Jedi way, his Voice had told him.

Only to find that: _Love is of the Light and must not be part of your life. Love will make you weak._

Passion would make him strong, but love would make him weak? Kylo didn’t understand, but the more he’d dwelt on it the more he’d realised: _The Leader was going to make him choose_. He was. All these killings were simply to steel his resolve, to train it into his muscle memory.  To make sundering a life force as easy as breathing, to weaponise his body and mind and make him into nothing more than a cutting edge.

But they were nothing compared to what was to come, and Kylo knows - **knows** \- he won’t be able to do it. He won’t be able to choose Snoke over Poe, but he knows, too, that he’ll doom them both to death that way. Poe needs to _leave_. It is the only way they both get out of this alive, and it is only if he works it out for himself and leaves without Kylo telling him to do so.

And yet, here he is. Standing in Kylo’s room, for once. They don’t usually come here, but there’s no one else in earshot, so if Kylo gets noisy (which he does, when it’s.. rough…) they can get away without Force-wiping everyone of a night of their lives. Kylo wants - begs, pleads, insists with eyes alone - Poe to leave. Run, run and never look back.

Run.

Run.

It gets harder to think that, when he just wants to scream:

##  **_—SAVE ME—_ **

Wants to scream it at the top of his lungs, and wants to laugh the kind of hysterical laugh that is born of nothing but sorrow, guilt, shame and pain. It bubbles in him and he wonders if this is what going mad feels like? An inability to control his own emotional response, a veering inside that feels like someone’s sliding buttons up and down, like the electrical impulses of his body are in an ion storm, like he’s vibrating as if the ground itself was shaking in atmospheric turbulence, like… like… thoughts he can’t capture, can’t pull into focus, can’t tame into stillness. 

He’s going to hurt Poe. He’s going to hurt the one person in his life who loves him, no matter what. Worse, Poe will probably not even get mad when it happens. He’ll lash out in anger or fear, or he’ll - he’ll be ordered to - and Poe will think it’s _his fault_ for not helping him enough, not **Kylo’s fault** for not being _strong_ enough to resist.

He is the monster Snoke said he was. He is. Torturer of bodies. Destroyer of minds. Thief of will. **Murderer**. 

Anger and hatred and violence and passion are his lot, and not _cool, calm, reasoned behaviour_. He’s a maelstrom of bad intentions, and– Poe puts a hand on his shoulder, and the touch should _electrify_ him, should **make his heart stop** like it makes Kylo’s stop. The Force surges in him, burns hot behind his eyes and hands, and–

— _it’s Poe, it’s Poe, it’s Poe_ —

**It’s. Poe.**

He breathes through his nose and feels it across his lip and then there’s a circle of plasteel around one wrist. It closes, and maybe he _could_ get out of it, but he has to not. He said he wouldn’t. He said. He promised.

He promised a lot of things, over the years, to a lot of people.

This one. Keep this one. Keep Poe. If nothing else: keep Poe.

The pilot clamps the other cuff around his wrist, and orders him to the bed.

Kylo does not want to go. Kylo wants to snarl and hiss and tell him to _run for his damn life_ , but he meets Poe’s gaze and sees surety, sees intent and focus, and they fight out the battle then and there. He feels his lips curl from his teeth, feels the retort that doesn’t pass his tongue, and Poe - Poe _stares him back down_ with a certainty that’s surprising.

He’s always known Poe was strong-willed. Always known that his pilot is brave and true and determined. 

Kylo still lashes out against his mind, a furious swipe of internal intent. He bears in hard, thinking bloody, violent death. Sending in memories of his actions, how it felt to witness the Force scream out as they died, how–

“ **Enough**.” Poe’s shaking bodily under his onslaught, his face a rictus of agony. His eyes look haunted - haunted like Kylo feels - but he’s fighting the mental intrusion.  


“It’s never enough.”  


“It is. Now stop.”  


“You don’t _understand!”_ He tries to push harder, to make him surrender, to make him stop.  


Poe looks pale, his body pinned in place, his mind fighting back with all it can. “I do. I do. I understand _you_ , Kylo. And I understand **him**. He’s trying to split you from me, and I won’t let him.”

“You can’t stop him! You’re just a pilot!”  


“Maybe not, but _you can_.”  


“I **can’t**.”   


“You can. You _will_. You will _win_. Now stop fighting me.”  


“Poe…”  


“ **STOP**.”  


Kylo lets go of the internal pressure at once, his insides caving in. He - he - he _hurt Poe_ , he realises, with horror. He hurt Poe, and Poe (shakenly, brokenly) grabs hold of his cuffed hands and drags him to the bed.

The Darksider lets himself be shoved onto the bed, on his ass, and lets Poe tie the cuffs above his head. He’s holding his upper body up from the mattress, refusing to relax his arms and lie down, when Poe moves to straddle him.

“I love you, you idiot.”  


“Poe…”  


“You listen up, first. You keep your mouth shut, and you listen to me. Give me that much respect, if nothing else.”  


That stops the argument on his tongue, and he blinks in surprise. A tiny nod.

“I love _you._ And I know what we’re doing, here. I knew when you asked me to run. Would I prefer we had an alternative? Yes. Do we? Not at the moment. Are you going to push me away? No. I love. **You**. And if you don’t feel safe under him, then feel safe _here_. Be yourself _here_.”  


“I… I don’t know who I _am_ , Poe.”  


And that’s terrifying to admit. He knew he wasn’t a Jedi - not like his uncle was - and he’d thought he’d feel right here. Knowing he doesn’t makes him feel even more adrift, even less secure. He’s not a Jedi, but he’s not what Snoke wants, either. He just wants everyone to stop trying to get him to work for them, and to run off with Poe. Forever.

But he can’t. And sometimes you have to accept that.

“Then we find it out.” Poe leans in, pushes hair back from his face.  


“What if we never do?”  


“We will. It will just take time.”  


Kylo leans into the hand on his face. He doesn’t feel right, not properly. He definitely doesn’t feel like - well - anything but being held right now. The cuffs make him feel a little safer, but that’s about all they do. He could still hurt Poe, but he’d have to use the Force. There’s a bit of a barrier in place, and that helps.

“Will… will you just… hold me?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.  


“Of course.” Poe moves, at once, and lies alongside him on the bed. He drapes one arm across his waist, and kisses at the side of his face.  


They lie like that for a while, and Kylo’s nerves slowly settle. He closes his eyes and feels the warmth beside him, the dip in the bed, the solid grip around his wrists. Slowly, slowly the panic abates, and he turns to nuzzle at Poe’s cheek.

“You ready to talk?” Poe asks.  


“Yes.” Yes. He is.   



End file.
